


Faucets for Fountainheads

by coricomile



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re sure you want me to do this,” Reid asked, staring at the orange bag that had been shoved into his hands. It was thick canvas with black stitching across the front to look like a Jack-o-lantern. The handles were worn a little soft. It was probably the same bag the family had used for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faucets for Fountainheads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galfridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Puiser à la source](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150501) by [Malohkeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malohkeh/pseuds/Malohkeh)



“You’re sure you want me to do this,” Reid asked, staring at the orange bag that had been shoved into his hands. It was thick canvas with black stitching across the front to look like a Jack-o-lantern. The handles were worn a little soft. It was probably the same bag the family had used for years.

“Jack says he’s too old to be seen with his father,” Hotch said, smiling tightly. There was a certain kind of sadness around his eyes, but Reid didn’t comment on it. “But-”

“You don’t want him on his own,” Reid finished. He guessed that, if pressed, he could pass for an older cousin, or maybe a brother. Young enough to not cramp Jack’s style, but old enough to be responsible for holding the candy without the temptation to eat all of it if left alone. 

“You don’t have to,” Hotch said. “But it would mean a lot to Jack if you did.”

“You don’t have to guilt me into it,” Reid said, smoothing the wrinkles out of the bag. “I don’t mind. I just- want to be sure.” _Doesn’t want to step on Hotch’s toes_. Hotch shrugged.

“I have to get used to him growing up sometime.” Hotch handed him a flashlight and one of Jack’s coats. The thunder of feet on stairs made him stand straighter.

At seven, Jack stood almost all the way to Reid’s hips. He had the potential to pass even his father, given the right nutrition and the right firing of his genes. The black robes of his costume didn’t quite come all the way down to his sneakers. 

“Good evening, Harry,” Reid said. Jack grinned at him and pulled a plastic wand out of his pocket. When he pressed a button, the tip glowed and hummed. 

“Be careful,” Hotch said, reaching down with one hand to ruffle Jack’s hair. Jack squirmed away from him and rolled his eyes. Reid didn’t check Hotch’s face. Some things were supposed to be private. “It’s only two hours. The committee cut down on trick-or-treat hours since-”

“I know,” Reid said. He smiled and backed away, toward where Jack was bouncing up and down at the end of the driveway. “It’ll be okay.”

Jack waited until the door was closed to race off toward the neighbor’s house. Reid followed him at a more sedate pace. His bad knee twinged a little in the cool night air, but he could hold out for two hours. 

\---

“Why are they called Jack-o-lanterns,” Jack asked. He was yawning, but he refused to be carried. The robes were off, tucked safely into the crook of Reid’s arm, and the jacket was on. Except for the glasses and the smeared eyeliner scar on his forehead, he looked like he did every other night. 

“They say that there’s a man that was forbidden from either heaven or hell because he tricked the devil too many times. His punishment is to wander the Earth for the rest of time, waving his lantern to lead people away from their paths,” Reid answered. “Did you know, originally Jack-o-lanterns were made from turnips?”

“You’re like a book,” Jack said, staring up at him. He narrowed his eyes. The frames of his glasses wiggled. “How old is Halloween?”

“There’s a discrepancy about the exact dates and origin, but it’s close to six thousand years old.” Reid’s knee throbbed. Jack had dragged him all over the neighborhood, taking full advantage of his two hour limit. He’d tried, once or twice, to hit up a stray house on the way back, but Reid steered him back onto the road. 

“How much candy can I eat before getting sick?” Jack asked. 

“It depends on your body weight and the kind of candy consumed.” Reid had the math in his head, but he couldn’t imagine that the formula would be of much interest. “And I doubt your dad is going to let you experiment.”

“He never lets me do that anyway,” Jack said around another yawn. “He thinks I’m a baby.”

“He worries about you,” Reid corrected. In the distance, he could see the porchlight of the Hotchner house. “It’s what dads do.” Reid did not consider his own father an example, but still held true to the sentiment. “He loves you.”

“I know _that_ ,” Jack said. His hand in Reid’s was cool and small. He really had no idea how fragile and precious he was. “But I don’t like it when he does it.”

“Sorry, buddy.” Reid squeezed his hand. “He’s going to do it when you’re old like us. It’s how he’s wired.” They were a block away. He stopped on the sidewalk and squatted down to Jack’s height. He’d need an icepack for his knee, maybe a few aspirin. “Tell you what: you let him fuss over you, and I’ll answer any questions you’ve got. Any time of day.” Jack narrowed his eyes again.

“Even the ones dad doesn’t want me to know?” He asked suspiciously. God only knew what kinds of things he could come up with. 

“In reason,” Reid answered. 

“Any time of day?” 

“Any time of day,” Reid confirmed. After a moment of careful consideration, Jack nodded. Reid figured he’d be getting at least three inappropriate texts a day for at least a month, but it was a minor inconvenience at worst.

Hotch was waiting for them when they got to the door with a mug of hot chocolate for Jack and a mug of spiked apple cider for Reid. Reid took a grateful sip as soon as he could. It felt warm from the inside out.

“Good haul this year?” Hotch asked. Jack grinned at him and made grabby hands at the bag looped around Reid’s wrist. Reid handed it to him and wasn’t surprised at all when Jack dumped it straight onto the ground and began to sort it into piles.

“Here,” he said, holding up a little yellow bag of M&Ms to Reid. Reid took it with a smile and tucked it into his pocket. “Why are they called peanuts?”

“The peanut is more closely related to peas than to nuts,” Reid rattled off automatically. He ignored Hotch’s raised eyebrow. “They’ve also been called ground nuts and ground peas, but peanut was the term that became popular.” Jack nodded his satisfaction and ripped open a fun sized Snickers bar. 

“What did you do?” Hotch asked later, when Jack had been sent upstairs to scrub off his scar and change into his pajamas. Reid smiled and poured himself another apple cider. It was still warm. 

“Not a thing,” he said.


End file.
